


Detective Work

by Margot_Lescargot



Category: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Humour, M/M, POV Miriam Stephanopoulos, established (but secret) Seagale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22816156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Margot_Lescargot/pseuds/Margot_Lescargot
Summary: Miriam detects.
Relationships: Miriam Stephanopoulos & Alexander Seawoll, Thomas Nightingale/Alexander Seawoll
Comments: 7
Kudos: 30





	Detective Work

**Author's Note:**

> This fits into the general verse of the [Seagale - "Burdens of Responsibility" series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1522985) posted elsewhere on the site.  
> (And, if you have looked at that series, this takes place a couple of months after getting together - so would slot in sometime towards the beginning of the collection of random scenes of uber-fluff which constitute [Part 8](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21532015).)

Miriam was looking ostentatiously at her watch. The minute hand was just about to tip over into 8:01 when Seawoll barged through the door of his office, deposited an extra-large latte on the desk in front of her and sank into his chair clutching a similarly-sized cup of his own.

‘Made it,’ he said. ‘Eight on the dot.’

‘Only bloody just,’ said Miriam, examining her coffee and then eyeing him. ‘Good of you to turn up. And where _were_ you this morning, when I was trying to call you from six o’clock and every quarter-hour after? How come you only picked up ten minutes ago?’

‘I wasn’t anywhere. Where would I be? I just.. And anyway, you know if it’s urgent you can ring my personal mobile. Which I do always answer.’

Miriam gave him a hard look. ‘Hmm. Well it wasn’t, so I didn’t. And you found your way here eventually.’

‘Thanks for this.’ She raised the coffee and took an appreciative sip. ‘As it goes, I didn’t get the call until six myself and there was clearly no rush by that point.’ She pushed a stack of papers across the desk to him. ‘It might not even be one of ours, but obviously we have to…’

‘Obviously.’

‘Oh and it looks like there _might_ be some funny business to it either way,’ she said disdainfully. ‘So I made a call to the SAU to be on the safe side and asked them very nicely if they wouldn’t mind coming along to the briefing.’ She shrugged. ‘It saves time.’

‘Yeah. Good. Thanks.’

‘Are you alright?’

‘Yeah, just, um, yeah, fine. So,’ he said, taking a slug of coffee and peering at the papers in front of him. ‘what have we got?’

Suspicious death. Body of a young adult male. IC1. Early to mid twenties. Found close to the Golden Hinde on Bankside at around 1.30am. No immediately obvious cause of death. No identification on the body. Certain items found nearby. Possibly related. Possibly not.

They spent the next twenty minutes poring over the initial incident reports and the POLSA findings, such as they were, which had come through overnight; another team would have been heading there for sunrise to see if daylight showed up anything new.

‘.. And so given the frankly ostentatious nature of the location – along with the other stuff – we thought it best to call that lot in for a first pass.’

‘Absolutely… Yeah... You did right.’

‘Alex! Am I talking to my fucking self here?’

‘What? I heard you. There might be weird bollocks. The Falcon lot are coming to the briefing. Who the fuck rattled your chain?’

‘Sorry, sorry. I didn’t get to bed till gone twelve. Pam was going on and on – again – about getting a bloody goat. I mean, it’s a decent-sized garden – you know, you’ve seen it – but it’s not _that_ big, and what with the hen-house as well, I mean, I don’t really know how she thinks…’ she trailed off. ‘Oi! Are you listening to me?’

Seawoll, who had been staring into space with an enigmatic smile on his face, gave a sudden start and focused on Miriam again, his hand having drifted unconsciously to his neck.

Miriam looked at him narrowly. ‘What’s that?’ She leaned across the desk and pulled his hand away to reveal a vivid purple mark, half hidden by his collar.

‘Fucking hell, Alex,’ she exclaimed. ‘How old are you? Sixteen?’ She looked at her watch and stood up. ‘Come on, it’s half past. We need to get to the briefing.’ She gathered her papers and headed for the door. ‘And cover that up for fuck’s sake.’

Somewhat abashed Seawoll adjusted his shirt collar, picked up his own papers and followed her.

‘Anyway, you should be glad it’s just a goat she wants. I know someone who kept a pig in their back garden.’

‘A pi-, what? Stop trying to distract me. We _will_ be discussing this later.’

The incident room was still half-heartedly festooned with Christmas decorations, looking a little bedraggled and sad, as they always did in the period between new year and twelfth night. It contained only a handful of bodies waiting for the briefing to begin; this wasn’t a full-blown murder investigation just yet. No sign of the Folly contingent, of course; all in their own good time, thought Miriam balefully.

She sat at the front while Seawoll started running through the facts as they currently knew them. She’d heard all of this already – she’d briefed him – so she allowed her mind to wander, and started thinking about the bloody goat again. She frowned, and was only brought back to her surroundings by the sound of Seawoll stumbling over his words slightly - something he _never_ did - and when she looked up she saw faint spots of colour in his cheeks. Puzzled, she turned to follow his gaze and saw that Nightingale had entered the room, finally, trailing Grant. He had the same look on his face that Seawoll did, one which, staring at the pair of them, she could now identify.

A-ha and o-ho, thought Miriam. So that’s how it was.

She turned back to Seawoll, who – to his credit – recovered and resumed the briefing, before handing over to the shiny new DS who was in charge of the door to door. 

‘…Not that there are that many doors around there, of course,’ finished the DS, with an unfortunate attempt at humour.

‘Well it won’t take you very fucking long then, will it?’ said Seawoll. ‘Now then, the items that were found nearby.’ He picked up a sheet of paper, ‘They were all things that were kept on the ship. Reproduction tools and what have you. Locked up overnight, of course, but the locks appear to have been picked. We don’t know yet if it was the victim who did that - Forensics are dusting, and good luck to them on getting anything useful off planks of treated timber. But what we do know is that some of the things that were taken are missing.’

Grant had his notebook out. ‘So there’s no sign at all of the missing items? Do we have a list?’

Seawoll consulted his papers. ‘Not a complete one as yet. But, on a first sweep, it does seem as if what’s missing is nowhere in the vicinity.’

‘Interesting,’ said Nightingale, speaking for the first time. ‘Almost as if they had been _swallowed_ , you might say.’ He was leaning against the rear wall with his hands in his pockets.

She was looking at Seawoll and - watching closely - saw him purse his lips and bite the inside of his cheek briefly; only someone who knew him as well as she did would have spotted it and known that he was trying not to show that he was amused.

Oh for fucks sake, she thought. Really?

‘You might say that,’ he continued. ‘As it happens, one of the items we do know we’re looking for is a, er,’ he consulted his notes again ‘rammer. You know, the thing they use for _pounding_ into the cannon.’

Miriam leaned forward in her chair and put her elbows on her knees. From behind, it would look as if she were paying closer attention to what was being said. In reality, she mouthed ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ as she caught Seawoll’s eye.

He had at least the grace to look suitably chastened and finished the briefing without further incident, though she noticed that he avoided looking towards the back of the room again.

‘You and you,’ he said, pointing at Sahra and David, ‘In my office. The rest of you can go.’

As the other officers filed out chatting, they made their way down to the first floor offices and gathered in front of Seawoll's desk as he leant against it.

‘You said there might be Falcon involvement, sir,’ said Peter as it became clear that Nightingale wasn’t going to speak. He stood slightly behind Peter, but Miriam could still see the brief look that passed between him and Seawoll. It was… telling. 

As if she needed it.

‘Possibly. That’s why I want you to go down there with David and check it out. Sahra, I want you to join DS Adebayo on the door to door. Keep an eye out for anything weird that might pop up, and call me. Or DI Stephanopoulos if I’m not picking up. Ok?’

‘Yes, guv. I’ll… head down there now shall I?’

‘Clever girl.’

‘Now then, you two’ he said, as Sahra left, ‘we’ve covered the missing items. But there’s also the ones that were left; the ones found near the body, which were arranged in a certain way. We don’t know why. Or what the purpose might be. Or if it’s related even. But it was definitely deliberate,’ and he handed over a sheaf of prints. 

As Carey and Grant leafed through the photos, she and Nightingale looked over their shoulders, but she could soon feel that his attention was elsewhere and a covert glance at the two of them confirmed it. She’d had her suspicions for a while, but whatever had happened, whatever had got into them today, they weren’t exactly being subtle. Good job only Grant and Carey were here to witness it. They wouldn’t know a burning look if they fell over one. Sahra, on the other hand… She gasped aloud: was that why Seawoll had sent her out of the room first? That devious fucker.

‘What is it Miriam? Anything to share?’ he said.

‘Hmmm. One or two things that have just come to light, perhaps.’

Seawoll stared at her. There was a flash of realisation on his face, and then, unexpectedly, he smiled at her – sunnily. There was no other word for it.

‘Right. Well you can fill me in later then.’

Oh. So _that’s_ how it was.

‘So,’ he said, addressing Carey and Grant, ‘you two get on your way down there now, before the market kicks in, and check for any tingles.’ He took back the photos and put them with the rest of the papers on his desk. ‘In the circumstances, the body needs to be examined by Dr Walid. He’s had the call and should be on his way to Horseferry Road by now; me and DCI Nightingale will meet him there. Call one of us if anything comes up.’

‘Unless you hear otherwise, Peter,’ said Nightingale, ‘I’ll see you back at the Folly when you’re done.’

‘Got it,’ said Grant, and he and Carey left.

‘And me?’ said Miriam.

‘Stay here, and see where we’re at with the Highgate domestic, oh and check in with Vice on the Piccadilly case, but be ready to spot Guleed if she calls in, ok?’

‘No problem. You’ll be back here after the autopsy then, I take it?’

‘Yeah, I’ll see you later,’ he said, but he wasn’t looking at her any more. ‘Can you shut the door on your way out, do you think?’

She sighed. ‘Fine.’

She stood in the corridor and counted out the seconds. 1… 2… 3… 4. Yep, there it was, the sound of two bodies making sudden contact with the other side of the closed door.

‘Idiots,’ she muttered, and went into her office.

***

ADDENDUM: The Other Side of the Door

Miriam closed the door behind her. Seawoll continued to look at Nightingale, who was studiously regarding the impeccable shine of his black Lobb lace-ups, but with an amused smile playing about his mouth.

He shifted his weight off the desk, unhurriedly, and strolled over to where Nightingale was standing. Moving straight into his personal space, he put his mouth next to his ear.

‘And what,’ he murmured, ‘The fuck. Was all that in aid of?’

Nightingale’s smile grew, and he angled his face towards Seawoll’s so that their lips were a mere whisper apart. ‘Oh you know,’ he said softly. ‘I thought it wouldn’t do any harm to keep you on your toes, professionally-speaking. And in any event, you gave as good as you got.’

‘Ah well then,’ said Seawoll, ‘I _am_ very good at giving, as you know,’ and he closed the gap between them.

Nightingale disengaged almost immediately, with a glance at the exit. ‘Is that secured?’

Seawoll took Nightingale by the shoulders and backed him up the metre or so necessary until they both hit the closed door. He bent his head towards him. 

‘It is now,’ he said.


End file.
